Til Now, I Always Got By
by Metronomeblue
Summary: Crowley only wanted a quiet life. Now some kid named Ruby's started the Apocalypse, Hell's rogue torture has been found, hunters are bothering him, and Aziraphale is missing. Things aren't looking good... Crowley/Fem!Aziraphale, Alastair/OC Sam/Jess D/OC
1. Alistair's Ambitions

Jenevieve was used to running. She had done it almost every day of her life. What she wasn't used to was the new feeling of tears running down her cheeks, almost freezing in the cold wind. A wind borne from Hell itself. She choked back a sob, her dark hair tangling into the fingers of a pursuing demon. She felt herself being jerked back, but she instead reached back and placing a finger into the palm of his hand whispered a line of an excorcism. The demon shrieked, and drew back, cradling it's smoking limb, claws dripping off into sand. Ah, so that was their game. Taking her back alive, unwounded, to continue their work. Being a renegade demon wasn't all it was cracked up to be. She laughed, a harsh, forlorn sound that was half pain, and half broken amusement.

Jenevieve swung back around, curls thrown haphazardly across her pale face. She narrowed her maroon eyes and set her feet. She stood, strong and hidden, as the icy-grey demons shot past her. They had heartlessness, but she had cunning. She smiled bittersweetly. Then she felt the twinge in her spine. She let out a breath as she collapsed. At least she had made it this far. The chemical in her bloodstream worked it's magic quickly. It spread out from the small of her back, out to her mind. Wiping her memory clean. As blank as her eyes.

Alistair stood above his mentor, half-crying, half-laughing. So this was emotion. He vowed that day never to feel again, even if it cost him everything, he would be the best. he would surpass her, and he would forget her. But deep down, he knew he couldn't. Because even demons love, and they love fiercely and strongly. Alistair's hand betrayed him. The muscles tensed, then relaxed. The syringe, still half-full of holy water, rolled across the tunnel. A cave more than a tunnel, really, he mused, attempting to think of anything but the task at hand. The task of torturing the ultimate torturer. The task of killing a white-eyed demon, killing his teacher. The task that he knew could break him if he let it.

"Alistair. ALISTAIR. Alis- ah, come on. There's only one thing for it then. ALICE! GET YOUR FAT ASS OUTTA BED! EVIL DOESN'T SLEEP, BLESSIT!" Alistair's memory was cut short by the (very pleasant, actually) voice of Esabelle(1), Jenevieve's (adopted) little sister. Real piece of work. He liked her.

" 'M up, 'm up... Whatsa rush, Esse(2)?" He rubbed his eyes, ignoring her blessing. He expected something normal, something like Ruby being back, or Meg bitching about Dean or-

"Crowley's back." Not that.

A/N:

1. Esabelle is a normal demon, while Jenevieve is Lillith's daughter. Just thought I'd clear that up.

2. Pronounced: Ess. Hard S.

Also, this is the Good Omens Crowley we're talkin' about here. Both show up, though.

Please review!

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	2. Crowley & Co

Wow, two chappies in one day? You better review, LOL! Just fro some reason, I wanted to say that the first chapter was written to the Glee covers of "Alone" and "Toxic"... Yeah..

"Well... I... Uh-wow. W-which Crowley...?" Alistair swallowed. Not the best wake-up ever, that was for sure. Esabelle smiled drunkenly.

"The Serpent has returned." She whispered. "And he brought some people with him." That was all Alistair had to hear(1). He leapt up out of the room, his tie still half untied. He passed several average black-eye lackeys, all doing Sales records and Newcomer reports on progress on typewriters(2). He couldn't help smirking as he passed Gordon. That Hunter was a bastard, true, but even Alistair hated him. After all, what hunter hunts their colleagues? Even he wouldn't stoop to that. Alistair had standards. Rules. Hated phonies and fakers. Wanna-bes were disgusting, and Groupies were just... Kinda nice, actually. Esabelle actually stopped near Gordon, just long enough to telekinetically smash his typewriter's inner workings. She flashed him a dazzlingly innocent smile and siad quietly, "...Having fun, yet?" Alistair smirked. Esabelle was creative. Just like her adoptive family. His smirk faded a bit. He finished tying his tie, slipped on the black jacket he had been carrying, and straightened his clothes. Alistar tugged at a lock of deep brown hair projecting over his (wrinkled in frustration) forehead. The Serpent was still highly respected.

"Please. Oh, Please." Alistair murmered under his breath.

"Whadya say, Alistair?" Esabelle looked up from re-buttoning her blazer. It was navy blue with brass buttons, and paired with her color-matched knee-length skirt, white socks, black mary-jane heels, and straight brown-black hair, she looked rather impressive. He felt some of his confidence boost. If Esabelle(3) could look impressive, he could survive a meeting with the Serpent.

A flash of folded wine-red and a sound like a harp heralded their arrival. Well, that and the furious Angel cursing and Demon blessing(4) streaming the whitish fog that had gathered around them. "... I swear, Kingly (5), if we're in the wrong place, I shall, quite honestly, bless your brains out to get the proper coordinates." The rather unusual British accent coupled with the emerging golden, slit-pupiled eyes told, very quickly which one of them was talking. The Serpent swept a few stray shards of American plaster and linoleum out of his smooth, jet-black hair. "I never did like the Fifth Circle(6)..."

"Relax, we're rigth were we're s'posed to be, Snake-Eyes." The other Crowley tossed back an insult and straightened his own tie. "Ah, hello Alistair. How's the old homestead?"  
Alistair just blinked in disbelief. Really, both of them? At the same time? Demons. They're so spontaneous.

1. Actually, he just wants to get that promotion badly.  
2. Hell is technology-challenged, and typewriters are just that much more torturous to operate.  
3. She's a bit of a player, really. Rather flirty and such. Very unDemonic.  
4. The Demons' version of cursing.  
5. King Of The Crossroads takes far too long to say, and calling each other Crowley A.) Gets annoying, and B.) Gets confusing. Very confusing.  
6. The Circle of Wrath and Sullenness. People deep in boiling blood rivers... Not pretty. Look on wiki if you want more details. And on another note, Hell in my 'verse is divided into the Circles yes, but there's this whole other section fro Soul-Sellers, and all the other prisoners get taken out for 'individual attention'.

Please review!  
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	3. Fainting,Yellow, Hotels, And Awkwardness

Heya! I'm back with another chappie! I love writing Alistair, if only because I get to make him the overworked boss. XD That's fun.

Disclaimer: I do NOT own Supernatural or Good Omens... They belong to the geniuses of the world: Eric Kripke and Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett... I only own my OCs.

"..." Alistair could only open and close his mouth in disbelief. Both Crowleys at the same time... In his division of Hell... Only trouble could follow. The last time they were in the same part of Hell, well... Lillith was laughing at it still, and they had somehow gotten her better nature (that she had one was a surprise) to emerge. Eventually he managed, "Wha- We- It-it's uh, um, fine." It was shambled, but it seemed to satisfy his curiosity. Proper Crowley(1) walked forward to stare pointedly at Esabelle. She just smiled back. Then another figure waved away the red smoke.

"Smoke.. Really? I mean, I'd understand the sound(harps, really), but smoke?" The woman had long, dark hair, he could tell (even though color was undestinguishable in this light). She had eyes the color of faded raspberries, and a face like a dove. Very beautiful. And he recognized her instantly. Jenevieve was back. She smiled at him, "Hello Alistair. My, haven't you grown." He fainted promptly. "Well," Jen said, looking from one Crowley to the other. "That went well, don't you think?" Esabelle swallowed, then took off running. "Not exactly the welcome I was loooking for, but it'll do." Jen smirked. "Now, things have certainly changed since I was last here. Which way's Interrogation(2), eh?"

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

Alistair remembered it like it was yesterday. For him, it seemed like it was. The dya he failed himself. The day he let a prisoner escape Hell. He had striven to be the best. Always the best. Ever since then he'd HAD been the best. But now she was back. He allowed himself to hope, for one tiny second, that she was back willingly, back to help him. To retake her position, the unclaimed throne. Queen of Interrogation, torture. But she couldn't be. She would never let herself do that ever again. Alistair knew that. He sighed, rubbing his eyes. If he was forced to choose between her and his position, what would he do? He didn't know. He just prayed to the greatest things he could think of that he wouldn't have to.(3)

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

"Are you sure we should be leaving her here?" King(4) asked Crowley.

"Eah, she'll be swell. Let's go." He said abruptly.

"Huh? What? Why?" King was a bit disquieted. It wasn't often that he got a chance to see Jenevieve in action. In fact, it wasn't often that anyone got a chance to see Jenevieve at all.

"Got someone to visti, Kingly. Someone important." Crowley let a small smirk make it's way across his lips."Someone very, very important."

"Friends in High Places, then?" Asked Kingly.

"Higher than you'd think." Answered Crowley.

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

"Dean, would you quit it?" Sam was irritated. That in itself was not unusual, but the reason for Dean's making Sam irritated was. Dean collapsed onto one of the beds, Sam went back to his frantic typing. He was currently researching the Four Horsemen. After their encounter with Famine(5), Dean had been twitchy and Sam had been closed-off. Neither really wanted to discuss it. The awkward silence spread out and filled up the crummy(6) motel room. They were both very relieved when Castiel zapped in.

Their relief was dimmed when they saw that (for some reason) Zachariah and a blonde girl were with him. Dean grabbed a knife and brandished it threateningly at Zachariah. Sam stared distrustingly at the blonde. She smiled cheerily and waved happily at him from her position behind Zachariah and Cas. He lifted one eyebrow.

"Samuel, Dean. Calm down." Cas told them, he himself being too calm.

"C-Calm DOWN? He's-He! He's ZACHARIAH, Cas!" Dean yelped, his voice raised to a rather high pitch.

"Indeed. But he is on the strictest of orders from one of his superiors, and he will not," Cas emphasized not," Do anything beyond walking, speaking, and-"

"Making odd facial expressions?" Cut in a smooth voice from behind the three zap-ees. It was a medium-height man, with sleek, straight, dark hair and sunglasses dark enough to obscure his eyes completely. He wore a suit, well-cut, and a leather-esque coat in a shade of dark that was indefinable. He eminated 'cool' the way Sam eminated 'tall'(7). "Are we late?" Next to him stood... Crowley. With an expression you could fry an egg on.

"What? I thought you said that we were visiting someone! Not getting ourselves smited on sight!" Screeched the demon.

"Yes, yes. We are visiting someone." Answered the stranger airily, removing his sunglasses nonchalantly. Sam and Dean simultaneously stood up, instinctively reaching for their weapons. The man's eyes were a molten gold, the color of marigolds and magma, the color of antique gold and sunlight, sunsets and honey. The color of death(8). In their center was a slit pupil, jet-black and more cunning than imaginably possible. Sam begin to step back slowly, Dean's eye blazed.

"Yellow Eyes." Dean hissed. The stranger was unfazed, he merely rolled his eyes and gestured vaguely towards their weapons, which then seemed to gravitate to Crowley's arms.

"Actually, My name's not Azazel, and I find that highly offensive," he drawled, "Look. Look at the eyes. All yellow, not just the iris, dimwits. Wonder you've survived so long." Anthony J. Crowley replaced his sunglasses and smiled again. It was chilling. "Now, where were we? Ah yes, visiting." Sam and Dean shared a glance before relaxing a bit. This guy had a point.

"What is your name, then?" Asked Sam cautiously, lowering his now-empty hand.

"Crowley." Sam and Dean both made an expression that clearly said: WHAT? before they said it themselves.

"What? But he's Crowley- and lot of good you were. It didn't work, smartass." Snapped Dean. "The Colt didn't work. Ellen and Jo are dead now, dead for nothing." He muttered. The blonde, who had been watching this scene avidly, intersected.

"Actually, you're wrong on both counts." Her voice was high, but not too high. Young as she looked, her voice said differently. "One, the Colt did work. It just didn't work enough. And Two, your friends didn't die for nothing, as you say. They died on a path of their own choosing, a path that they quite happily followed. They're up in heaven attempting to beat each other at chess right now, you know." She smiled, something that made every man in the room, except for Proper Crowley, go indescribably weak at the knees.

"Who's trying to beat who at chess?" Asked Sam finally.

"Um..." The blonde narrowed one eye, thinking hard,"Your friend, Pamela, and Miss Jo Harvelle. They're tied, 2-2." Sam dropped into a chair, completely numb.

"Pam?" He eventually croaked. "Pam and Jo are playing chess? In Heaven?"

"Yep." Smiled the blonde. Weak knees all over again.

"Aziraphale." The blonde turned to the new Crowley in response. "Are you completely sure about what you told me?" He seemed unsure of himself suddenly, as though her gaze was a death sentence and bliss at the same time. Zachariah growled, a sound deep beneath the earth, something that should never be heard. 'Crowley' hissed back. Castiel swallowed, eyes blinking furiously.

"Boys! Boys!" The blonde, Aziraphale was suddenly between the two, a hand on either's chest. "Crowley. Calm down. While I'll kill 'im if he does, he can still dissappate you in seconds. And Zachariah, you and I will have a little chat." Aziraphale's eyes had gone from a cobalt-blue to icy-white in a few seconds(9). Not Lillith-white, but a pure, silver-grey around the pupil. Cas let out a breath. It was obvious he had been hoping that nobody would die.

"What the Hell?" Exclaimed Dean. "Who are you?" Aziraphale turned away from Crowley, looking very embarrassed.

"I'm um... Aziraphale. An Angel. Principality level." She shrugged sheepishly. It hit Sam so hard it was almost physical.

"Y-Yo-You're Zachariah's superior." Dean turned around so fast it was rather frightening.

"What do you mean, Sam?" He asked, with emphasis on mean.

"She's Aziraphale. The, uh, the Guardian of the Garden of Eden.(10)"

"That's me." Sighed Aziraphale.

"That's her." Acknowledged Crowley.

A/N:  
1. A reference to Doctor Who. (Awesome show, BTW.) In the Silence In The Library episode, there are two Daves, Other Dave, and Proper Dave. Proper Dave joined theteam first, so henceforth, Proper Dave. Proper Crowley is Good Omens Crowley.

2. Interrogation = Torture sector for those who've sold their souls.

3. In case I wasn't clear enough (I never am) Alistair let Jenevieve go, hen tried to make it up by becoming the best at everything he did.

4. King= King of The Crossroads

5. Takes place somewhere between 5.14 and 5.16.

6. No, really, there were crumbs.

7. Sam eminates tall like Cas eminates awkward, and Cas eminates awkward in the same way 'a duck takes to doing taxes' eminates awkward.

8. Bees and honey are Egyptian symbols of death.

9. Her irises change color with her mood. Average is pale blue, happy is darker, and the angrier she gets, the paler her eyes do.

10. She is. Reluctantly.

Please Review!  
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	4. Ruby, Torture, And A Girl Named Santana

A/N: WOOT! Thanks to all you who fave'd and subscribe'd. Especial thanks to xCastiel'sGirlx MY FIRST REVIEWER! XD

"Whut?" Dean managed. "No, wait, what?" He shook his head in confusion. Aziraphale just leaned against a small cabinet in the corner of the room(1).

"Well, aren't you going to introduce yourself, Crowley?" Aziraphale and Crowley seemed to have some unspoken agreement over something, because he suddenly stepped forward, hand outstretched, and smirked.

"Crowley, Serpent of Eden." Sam looked like a scared bunny rabbit(2).

"The-The Serpent of Eden? You mean, Apple, Adam, and Eve Serpent?" Dean spluttered.

"Mm-Hm." Hummed Crowley. Other Crowley(3) snorted and replaced his hat(4).

"Well, if you'll all excuse me, I've got a rogue Torturer to attend to." He said, in clipped, irritated tones. Aziraphale waved happily, and Crowley made a two-finger salute. Dean's eye twitched.

"You're not going anywhere." He snapped through gritted teeth. The King Of The Crossroads just smirked and zapped himself away from the motel room. Dean then turned to the two smiling entities. "What the Hell are you two doing here, anyway?" Crowley's smirk faded a bit at the word 'Hell'.

"Well, to put it simply-" Began Crowley.

"We're here to tell you that-" added Aziraphale.

"The Apocalypse is-" Jumped in Crowley

"Going to happen in approximately-" Stated Aziraphale.

"Seven Months and three days and that-" Added in Crowley.

"Heaven's gunning to start before that! And Hell is even-" Exclaimed Aziraphale.

"Worse because we're going to stampede you guys with demons and-" Moaned Crowley.

"Force Sam to say yes to Lucifer! And then there's-" Wailed Aziraphale.

"Michael! Who's going to abduct Adam and use him as-" Emphasized Crowley.

"Bait for you, Dean! Like Meg did for your dad!" Finished Aziraphale sadly.(5)

"... Can you, um, repeat that?" Asked Sam cautiously.

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

"Hello." Whispered Jenevieve. Every demon froze in place at the death-cold tone in her voice. Alistair swallowed, shifting his weight from foot-to-foot. Jenevieve stood on an overlooking ledge made of stone. Her eyes flashed with fury. She jumped down, landing perfectly on one knee and one hand. She stood gracefully, her mouth elongated into a smile. It was a distinct relative to a knife somewhere in Medieval Germany called the Zwhyhander. The Zwhyhander is a huge long sword with jagged edges and a gleam like an obsidian mirror. Imagine a smile like that, and multiply it's feear factor by twelve. "What?" She asked quietly, creeping behind a demon, who shivered in fear as Jenevieve drew back a lock of platinum hair from the demon's face. "No 'welcome home'? No joy? Why am I not surprised." She made a hairpin turn on her heel and stalked away to a prisoner, a demon, currently screaming herself hoarse. She clamped a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth, and grinned wickedly."You and me." She whispered into her ear seductively. "We're going to have so much fun together, Ruby." Jenevieve slipped her hand back to it's original position at her side before absentmindedly beginning to hum a tune, (6), and setting a gramaphone onto the well-worn record of 'Guys and Dolls'. Ruby quivered in fear as Jenevieve reverently drew a silver scalpel from it's fabric sheathe. She hissed in admiration. "Y'know, Rube, the tools here've gotten so much better since I was last here... I certainly hope the earplugs have too." Alistair smirked as Jenevieve offhandedly drew a long, slim, red line across Ruby's fingertips, and leaned up against the overhanging ledge. The Queen has returned, he thought, you'd best beware her fury.

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

"Dangit, ye idjits, why ca't ya just do it yerselves...?" Muttered Bobby as he got off the phone with Rufus(7), needing a cover story. Then his own personal phone rang. He paused, knowing exactly what that meant. He reached for it tentatively, yes, tentatively, and grasped it. He stuck it between his shoulder and ear. "...Santana. Yeah. 'Course. No, no... uh-huh. Yeah. Apocalypse, right... WHAT?" His shout could be heard three streets away, where Sam, Dean, and Cas were currently speeding towards Bobby's. "No, nononono... That's impossible. Yeah, I know. But demons? having actual demon children? No. Really?" Sam and Dean heard an odd one-sided conversation coming in. Cas, however, heard the entire last half, which consisted of:

"Yep. Hell's best torturer. Lillith's daughter."

"That's impossible."

"But it's been seen before."

"Yeah, I know... But Demons?"

"Yep."

"Having actual children?"

"Well, nobody would think we were related to see us, let alone think we were father and daughter. I mean, seriously."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"You have a daughter?" Asked Castiel in a very uninterested way.

"God! What- yes, sue me." Bobby stammered. Dean raised an eyebrow and pushed Castiel the remaining half of the doorway.

"How is Santana?" Sam asked curiously.

"Good, she's uh, she's tracking a nest of demons, seeing if she can get any info." Siad Bobby. Dean noticed that he was massaging his eyes worriedly.

"You're worried about her." He stated. "She'll be fine." he added, not entirely lying.

"Hola."

"GYAH!" Shouted Dean.

"Holycrap." Sam whispered.

"WHAT IN THE NAME OF-?" Bobby asked, not entirely unreasonably. After all, having a blonde Principality and the Serpent of Eden spontaneously materialize in your living room would make you curious too.

"Hello?" Asked Santana Singer over the phone.

"Heya, cutie." A sugar-rich voice behind her made her turn from the phone. She swallowed.

"Mom?"

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

There was a picture of Santana on a small shelf in the Panic Room(8). She was seventeen in it, and she wore a knowing smile that made Dean's mouth rather dry. Her curly ash-blonde hair was pulled back into a high ponytail and her cinnamon-colored eyes flashed defiantly. She wore a teal, short-sleeved shirt and a pair of loose, cropped capri pants(9). Dean didn't even notice Sam come in behind him until the door was shut.

"Hey, Dean." Sam half-asked.

"Mm."

"Are you... Worried about Santana?" Sam's footsteps were short, small steps that clinged against the hard walls and echoed around. Deans own shoes ground against some dust as he turned on his heels.

"Who, me? Nah. She'll be fine. She always is." Dean didn't let on to exactly how scared he really was.

1. It hadn't been there a second ago...

2. He squeaked like one too, when they looked at him.

3. SPN Crowley.

4. He had zapped it into existence a few seconds ago. He rather liked it already.

5. Yes, after six thousand years, they can finish eqach other's monologues.

6. faintly recognizable as, 'Luck Be A Lady Tonight'

7. Okay, really? if I have to explain this to you, you need to go watch more SPN.

8. Nobody actually knows why it's there. Bobby won't answer when they ask him.

9. VERY comfortable...

WOOT! I finally got there!  



	5. Eighth, Hell On Earth, and A Torturer

'Kay guys, chappie 5. Oh... If you ever need a happy-awesome song, and vid, watch Thank Chuck It's Friday by PunkPrincessPirate. WIN. Oh! And, also, I know I said the pairing is Dean/OC, but from the previous chappie, it may not be what you expect exactly... ;)

"Not exactly how I remember it." Said Ruby conversationally. She pulled a hand out of her jacket pocket. A weathered windbreaker, it felt as though it had been made for her. Light enough to fight in, dense enough to keep dry. Oh yes, this time, this time, the world, the Winchesters -Crowley- would see her. Not that bitch Meg, not Lillith, no. Only Ruby and Lucifer. Just them. Just them. It was that thought that sustained her through the long, boring nights on buses, trains, and occasionally Hell-Gates. She gazed down over the expanse of Sioux, South Dakota, and smiled triumphantly. This world would be hers. Crowley would be hers(1).

"Watch it there." A sweet, lilting voice came from behind her. Whipping around, Ruby saw-of all people- Jenevieve. Oh that meddling little- "Ah. So you're calling me meddling now? Bad, bad idea, Rube." Jenevieve took a step forward. "Don't do it again." And just like that, all her dreams of glory and honor disappeared. She flared her nostrils, her dark, sultry eyes glaring it out at Jenevieve.

"Are you forgetting just who I am?" She almost shrieked, her anger flaring up like the lightning behind her. The rain fell ever harder as Jenevieve stepped up to the edge of the overlook, leveling up to Ruby. "Are you? I am-"

"A whining, complaining little slut? Yes, you are. Let's go." Jenevieve smiled serenely and snapped her fingers. Ruby clenched her fingers so hard they bled. Screw this. Screw this! She was- She was the frikking Eighth Sin(2)! She shouldn't have to put up with this! Nevertheless, she followed Jenevieve. Because she had to.

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

Dean was happy. Santana was on her way there, it was pouring, which irked the demon more than he would admit, and Sammy was finally looking him in the eye again. Finally. Finally, they could talk again. They could talk, and Sam wouldn't make that sound, the one like he was ashamed, like he was ashamed of things that weren't his fault. His hands tightened momentarily on the crowbar he was using. If Famine had survived somehow, and he showed his face, dared to show his face, then Dean would break his goddamned skull open and use each and every skill Alistair had taught him. He would. He tried to convince himself that it was for Sammy, that it was because of the screams and shouts his brother had made, doing anything, trying anything to get out. And it was, hell, it was. But deep, deep down, he knew the other reasons why he wanted to. He knew. It was exactly what Famine had said. He was Empty. He was empty, and sick of it. He just wanted... He just wanted to inflict pain, to hate himself, to feel something. Anything. All he could hope for was that the angel, Aziraphale, he thought, didn't see it. Didn't see what he desired most, what he craved to be doing. All he could do was pray that she wouldn't say anything to Sam. All he could do was stand, in the pouring rain, crowbar in hand, and ponder the emptiness of a Torturer's heart.

His heart.

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

"Bobby, d'you know anything more about the Serpent of Eden?" Sam asked, poring studiously over a heavy Bible. He turned a page, taking a small sip from his mug of -now freezing cold- coffee.

"Oh yeah. He's a right bastard, that demonic p-" Sam nearly choked when Bobby started, but by the time Crowley had zapped in, he quite literally needed a heimlich.

"Well! Nice to see you two fine hunters! How's the old homestead?" Asked Crowley merrily, slapping Sam on the back. Bobby rolled up to him(3), glaring his eyes out, but then Aziraphale appeared quite suddenly behind Bobby's wheelchair.

"Alright," Sighed Sam, closing the Bible and leaning it against his forehead, "What's he done this time?"

"Dear, might you attempt not to scare away the locals?" She sighed, ignoring Sam. She pushed an increasingly stubborn blonde curl off her face, but it landed in exactly the same spot it was in before. She gave up. "I mean, even Ruby never went that far!" Sam dropped his coffee. Crowley just crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.

"Yeah," He scoffed, "Right. Like starting the blessing Apocalypse is cause to celebrate. I mean, at least I have control. You see a hospital you start healing everybody in sight!" Aziraphale's cheeks were growing redder with each sentence.

"Yes? Well? S-so I want to do g-good. A-at least I k-kn-know what I'm doing." She stammered forcefully. Her teal-blue eyes seemed like a scorching blade that cut through Crowley.

"Really?" He examined his fingernails boredly.

"Really." Her tone made his head snap up to look her in the eye. "And I'm not the one failing at my job. As I recall, you're supposed to hurt people, not help them." That stung. After all, hadn't it been she who had helped him become like this? He fought with his other half, his Serpent half, for a minute, struggling not to say those words, to say the words ever so close to his tongue... And- Then he did.

"Hn." He smirked, "Well, as I recall, you were the one who couldn't kill Lucifer when the time demanded.(4) Do good? Please. You might as well hand over your Grace right now. You'd be better off dead already. Does that hurt you enough?" The minute he said them, he knew the words were a mistake. Bobby froze. Sam's eyes widened to the point of absurdity, and his fingers twitched around a mug he no longer held. But it was Aziraphale's reaction that he truly dreaded. And he was not disappointed.

Her lips mouthed words she could not form, settling eventually into a soft, upset O. Her azure eyes flickered with anger, then appeared to fade away completely. Dead eyes. Eyes that held no purpose. Eyes that he had seen once before, only once, and then he had been able to comfort her, to help her. But now... now he was the one who had caused that cold, painfully blank expression. All he had wanted to say was... It didn't matter. She set her jaw, hardened her eyes, and wiped her face clean of emotion. But before that, before she left, she allowed herself one brief moment. It would stay etched in all their minds forever afterwards. Her face contained an amount of grief that Sam would never have thought possible, the grief, the deep, bottomless sorrow of old, harshly healed wounds broken open. Then she was gone, with a soft, quiet sound reminiscent of wingbeats and a scattering of teardrops on the floor.

"What have I done...?" Crowley's voice sounded hollow, emotionless... Well, good. That was how he felt. He looked up, golden eyes peering from behind tinted glasses. "Aziraphale. Oh, Aziraphale." He looked down at an empty and widespread hand. Six thousand years of progress, all ruined in one go. Lovely Crowley, what a lovely friend you are. Friend, he had to remind himself, friend. You were never anything more. You never will be. Just try and fix what you've broken. No more, no less. Just fix it.

"Where would she go?" Asked Sam. Not angry, not reproachful, just asking. "When she's upset, where would she go?" he was already pulling on a jacket. Crowley almost smiled. Aziraphale and Sam had become rather good friends over the past few days. They were united in their love of books, and if anything, their mutual hatred of Ruby. crap. Ruby. He panicked.

"Sam?" He swung around to meet Crowley's eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Ruby's back." Sam's reaction was... Well, to widen his eyes past the point that should be at all possible, open his mouth, and clench his fists.

"Oh, Hell no... Soooooooooo not what I need." He slumped down. Crowley began to button up his jacket.

"We need to find Aziraphale. Now." His voice was terrified, scared to death, of something.

"Why is it any more important that Ruby's back? I mean, Aziraphale could cream her in an instant. She'd be fine." Sam asked, still kinda freaked by the turn of events.

"She could. And that, Sam, is what worries me. Aziraphale cannot kill. She can't. It's impossible normally. But now..." He stopped his pacing to smooth back jet-black hair in vain. "Now that I've said that, she's gone over the edge. She kills, she will die, Sam. I- I can't let that happen. Never."The conviction in his voice was bleeding with pain, anger, and- Shame. he was ashamed of what he had said. Sam looked down at the demon for a moment, nodded, tossed the bible to Bobby, and followed the demon out of the house.

~~~~SUPERNATURAL~~~~

"Aziraphale." The angel turned, her eyes still streaming crystalline tears. "You must be Aziraphale. So, you're Crowley's newest conquest... Hn. He used to have much better taste in girls." Ruby was, quite obviously pissed. And Aziraphale, turning in a circle (only to find herself ringed in fire), was quite obviously trapped. "Oh well. At least I get to have fun with you." Ruby somehow teleported herself into the ring(5). "And you, angel, are gonna scream." The smile on Ruby's face chilled Aziraphale to the bone. "Crowley's mine, and you're never gonna live to tell the tale." Aziraphale closed her eyes, and for the first time in six thousand years, began to pray in Latin. To beg her family(6) for any form of assistance. Luck. Hope. Faith. It wouldn't matter, she knew. But she wanted to die with at least some form of apology planned for them. That, and she desperately wanted Crowley to know just how sorry she was.

For everything.

To Be Continued...

1. Yep. Ruby lurves Crowley. At least, as much as her shriveled little heart lets her.

2. Uh-huh. You heard right. She's a damn bitch, too. I have nothing against the actresses who played her, but damn, how evil can they make her? And as for what this Eighth Sin is? Next chappie, peoples.

3. He's still in his wheelchair.

4. Yep, Aziraphale nearly killed Lucifer. Plotty chapter, huh?

5. The no-zapping rule doesn't apply to demons, but Azira doesn't know that.

6. Some family. (yeah right)

Wow... I hate writing Crowley being mean... :( Ruby was fun, though. I liked writing her as a bitchy, self-obsessed, twit. That was tremendous amounts more fun than it should've been... ;)

Please review!

Natsu-Tan 


	6. Booths, Blood, Boredom And Summer

A/N:  
I'm sososo sorry! I haven't updated in forever! I do realize that I'm a really spacy author, but I do try... I hope that this makes up for it at least a little bit? Please don't kill me?

Aziraphale stepped an inch back, foot just brushing the fire, singing her ankle. She winced and stepped forward again.

"And, pray tell... What would that accomplish, my dear?" She spat out through grit teeth. Ruby scoffed, incredulous, but not surprised.

"I'll get your precious little Serpent all to myself, that, and I get bragging rights. It's not often we demons get to capture and torture an angel, let alone one as high-ranked as you." She paced around Aziraphale like a cat circling a mousetrap. "You're very pretty, though, aren't you? Pretty in a fragile sort of way." She reached out, dragging one fingernail down Aziraphale's cheek, agonizingly slowly. "So fragile... You'll bleed easy, won'tcha?" She reached into her belt and tore out a knife, almost as though she felt a personal hatred toward it. "Oh yeah, your wings'll look real pretty all broken and bleeding, won't they?" Aziraphale closed her eyes.

~S~U~P~E~R~N~A~T~U~R~A~L~!~

"Dean!" Sam grimaced as he stepped over and around piles of miscellaneous car-part-junk. There seemed to be an overabundance of oil around here... "Dean? Dean- Oh crap." As Sam's flashlight fell over the car currently dragged into the shed-slash-garage, he found that his brother appeared to not only be bleeding copiously from the arms and stomach, but that there were several large words written on the wall. "Oh crap." Repeated Sam. "Oh crap, I know what happened to Aziraphale."

The words read as such:

HIYA DUMBO(1). ANGEL-CAKES WITH ME. OH, AND SAY HI TO DEANEY DEAREST. HOPE HE MAKES IT.

~S~U~P~E~R~N~A~T~U~R~A~L~!~

Two days ago:

Santana Singer stared, frozen, at the tall blonde woman currently standing in front of her. "Mom?" she asked again. "Mom, what.. what happened to you? You're dead."

"Yes." Karen Singer looked down at her chest, where several stab wounds had just barely healed. "Yes I am, and I need you to kill the bad, bad man who did it." She stretched her cold, white, arms out to her daughter. "Please, please... I'm so cold..."

Her daughter backed away, slamming herself painfully into the phone booth. She froze for a second, watching warily as her deceased mother advanced, arms outstretched. She fumbled behind herself for a second, attempting to find the catch on the lock.

"No." She said forcefully. "No, dad killed you because you were posessed. You weren't murdered, it was an accident..." Her eyes were tearing up. "It was an accident." She breathed, trying desperately to convince herself that it was true, but obviously losing conviction. Her mother had backed her completely into the phone booth's door. She tilted her head back, slamming it against the faux-glass panes."An accident..." She protested weakly.

"No.. No, it wasn't." Her mother cooed, caressing her daughter's face. "No, he did it on purpose. He killed me... He murdered me."

"Murdered you..." Mumbled Santana, before the world swerved away into a painful nothingness.

~S~U~P~E~R~N~A~T~U~R~A~L~!~

Jenevieve was not having fun. She had somehow been roped into, how did Alistair put it?- 'Rediscovering Hell'. as of the past two hours, people had dumped her in blood, chopped half her hair off, whacked her with spoons, and effectively given her a new nickname: 'Runaround'. Bitches.

She'd have to visit Esabelle later. That'd be sure to be fun. Unless... Of course, Esabelle believed she had been sent by angels to spy on the inner demonic workings of Hell.(2) Which, at the moment, Esabelle did.

Great.

Jenevieve sighed and shifted her head, which was currently resting on her crossed arms.

She wished Alistair would just come back.

~S~U~P~E~R~N~A~T~U~R~A~L~!~

Heaven was boring.

Not that Summer had expected anything else, but still.

At least there were those Hunters down the by-way.

I mean, she was glad that none of the fun people she knew, none of the people she liked had died yet, but she was sorta sad, too...

At least she had a good view of Earth.

This was going to be interesting... Not that being dead could be anything else, even if she hadn't been a Hunter(3).

But still.

To Be Continued...

After-notes:  
1.) At the end of 4.22, Ruby tells Sam : "You didn't need the feather to fly Dumbo. You had in in you all along.", and I swear, just the thought gives me chills. Her delivery? FLAWLESSLY cruel, and so damn beautiful in the scariest way. Watch "The last ten minutes of 4.22 Supernatural" on Youtube, and you'll see what I mean.

2.) Esabelle's more than a little wary since Jenevieve left them behind. She's lost a little faith in... well, everything. Sad, really.

3.) Don't worry. All will be revealed. Eventually. XD But.. you know the Dean/OCin the summary? Here it is.

A/N:  
Wow. *phew* Writing the Santana-Karen convo was harder than you'd believe... Poor, poor Santana. She had to watch as her mom was killed by her dad... So sad... But I liked writing Jenevieve pining after Alistair. You'd think after two years away from Hell, she'd be used to it... O_o And was that PLOT I saw at the end? Summer... My newest friend/OC... Yeah. I'm pathetic, but please review anyway.  
NT~

NT~ 


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